Page 22 of Hook, Line and Mystery

The clouds above in the sky seemed to hold their breath, sharing the intimacy of their connection. Abby’s thoughts were a whirlwind, her feelings for Kit solidifying with every stolen touch and shared whisper. She wondered if she could ever truly convey the emotions that bloomed within her chest.

But as quickly as their romantic bubble had formed, it was burst by a sudden commotion nearby.

The shrill voice of a woman cut through the tender moment, pulling Abby and Kit apart. They turned toward the disturbance and saw the woman arguing with a tall, lean man, his neatly trimmed beard and sharp eyes adding an enigmatic air to his appearance.

“Who are those people?” Abby asked.

“The guy is Derek Holloway, a newcomer who works at the local maritime museum. And the woman is Martha Simmons; she owns the café,” Kit said.

“Poaching lobsters isn’t just illegal, it’s immoral!” Martha accused. “You’re harming the town’s livelihood!” Her heated words echoed through the square, drawing the attention of the gathered crowd.

Derek’s cool retort sliced through the tension. “You have no proof that I’m involved. Baseless accusations won’t solve anything and could be subject to a lawsuit.”

Abby felt the warmth of Kit’s hand on her arm as they exchanged uneasy glances. The harsh reality of the lobster poaching issue cast a pall over the evening, tainting the newfound closeness between them. A pang of unease twisted in her gut, an unwanted guest.

“We can’t ignore what’s happening to our waters,” one of the fishermen spat bitterly, drawing several onlookers into the fold of their dispute.

Abby felt Kit stiffen beside her, and she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “This is bad, isn’t it?” Her voice was laced with concern as she searched his face for answers.

He nodded grimly; his gaze fixed on the arguing men. “It’s more than just bad; it threatens everything—our livelihoods, the marine life, our community.”

A heavy sigh escaped her as she watched the joyous atmosphere dim under the weight of reality. The idyllic setting of the festival now seemed like a delicate facade, masking the unresolved issues that simmered beneath the surface of Badger’s Drift.

“Kit,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is worrisome, don’t you think?”

His hand found hers, squeezing it firmly. “Don’t worry, Abby; we’ll figure it out,” he said, resolve etched onto his rugged features. “We have to solve this mystery and help our town.”

“We? Our?” she asked.

“Do you doubt it?” he replied before brushing his lips over hers.

Abby’s eyes traced the crowd until they settled on Martha Simmons, who stood out amongst the sea of people, her presence undeniable. She wore a practical apron over her denim jeans and checkered shirt, her short, curly salt-and-pepper hair moving with the breeze. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips as she engaged in heated dialogue with Derek, his trim beard doing little to hide his frustration.

“Martha has always been fiercely protective of these waters,” Kit said, watching the woman’s expressive face animate with every word. “But the fact is, she’s started offering lobster chowder and lobster rolls. Lobster isn’t cheap, and the café has always been close to the line in profitability.”

“Could she be so desperate to protect the waters or her café that she’d cross the line? Maybe she’s buying some of the poached lobster and wants to frame Derek, or maybe she thinks he’s the one responsible,” said Abby, her fingers tightening around his.

“It’s possible. Desperation can drive good people to do bad things.”

“Maybe it is Derek,” Abby said.

Her gaze shifted to the inscrutable man who seemed like an outsider yet was intimately tied to the community.

“He’s new here, has access to the museum, near the docks—both are viable suspects,” Kit said, his voice steady but filled with concern. “But the last thing Badger’s Drift needs is more unsubstantiated accusations and suspicions. We need proof that we can take to the Marine Patrol.”

The discordant notes of the argument clashed against the festive music, intensifying Abby’s unease. She worried that the fabric of this close-knit town could unravel. Another man stepped between the two verbal combatants.

“Here now, Martha, you don’t have any evidence with which to accuse Derek. And Derek is as committed to this town as I am. Surely, you don’t want to ruin the festivities for everyone, now do you?

“And that voice of reason is Gordon Lowrie.” Kit supplied the answer before she could ask the question.

“Look at them.” Abby’s voice was tinged with sadness as she observed the townsfolk. “They’re all worried. And here I am, falling for you and Badger’s Drift amidst all this chaos.” She laughed softly.

“Hey.” Kit turned to her, his blue eyes earnest. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Come along now everyone,” continued Lowrie. “Nothing to see here. Let’s all get back to celebrating Badger’s Drift and its long tradition of honoring Valentine’s Day.”

The uncertainty and tension surrounding them reminded her that their blooming romance was not immune to the troubles of Badger’s Drift. A deepening concern for the town’s future intertwined with her and Kit’s feelings for one another, each amplifying the other. Her growing affection for Kit, and her protective instincts toward the town coalesced into a complex knot inside her. As they stood together, the uncertainty of the situation hung over them like a dark cloud.

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